


Hold in hands

by 0Sion0



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bodyswap, Fluff, Love/Hate, M/M, additional scene based on "FYPoV", and at the moment the only piece of text about them that closest to romance, just two idiots sharing intimate moment, talk about souls, they still idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24138940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0Sion0/pseuds/0Sion0
Summary: Ink had always wondered what it would be like to have a soul. Something so simple to the others, was an unsolvable mystery for him, which he longed to touch. And found himself in Error's body after one incident, the guardian thought he had finally got such a chance.If it weren't for the fact that the destroyer's essence didn't want to be caught in his hands.
Relationships: Error/Ink, Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 94





	Hold in hands

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this drabble for [Ly_the_creator](https://twitter.com/Ly_the_creator)'s birthday and translated it into English for her. In Russian, it's called "[Держать в руках](https://ficbook.net/readfic/9355699)".
> 
> This scene is out-of-plot for my fic "[С твоей точки зрения](https://ficbook.net/readfic/7670171)", which you known here as "[From your point of view](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550681)", translation by [TheGrinningKitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGrinningKitten). This happens in the same world as the comics that I draw on Twitter and is canon for them, though not for the main story. But I hope you like it!
> 
> And special thanks for Crescent Moogle for the beta-reading, after which I'm not ashamed to post it here. But remember that I'm not a native speaker and I'm bad at English, so any advice or corrections are still accepted.

He could never get used to it. No matter how much time passed or how long they were stuck like that, Ink was still amazed by this quivering and tender feeling. It permeated every bone of the body, starting from his chest and going all the way to his fingertips, wholly enveloping him in a warm wave that slowly faded, only to come back with a new beat of the soul.

That's right. A soul.

A real, living bundle of energy that so much depended on, and that he now owned. Although "owned" is not quite the right word. He only unwittingly borrowed, along with this body trembling with glitches. But no matter how strange it sounded, or how sudden were their switch, Error's body never seemed alien or undesirable to him. On the contrary, the artist felt better in it than in his own.

Despite the slight burn of glitches or blurred vision, these trifles paled in comparison to the greatest treasure that his opponent had, and which he only by good fortune had the honor to hold. The essence of another being that rested peacefully in his chest, and with which Ink felt so full and complete for the first time - felt like a real living being, and not an empty puppet in the hands of the Creators. And he adored every single moment of it.

He loved it so much that it was the only thing other than drawing - or the loss of all the colors, but he didn't want to think about that - that could make a hyperactive artist stay in place for more than a minute. Much, much more. He could immerse in it for hours at a time, just relaxing and breathlessly watching every pulse of the soul inside him. It was as if he were watching the slow swell of the waves at the edge of the ocean and listening to their gentle murmur, oblivious of everything, but unlike just his eternal holes in his memory, it was a pleasant oblivion.

For this, Ink even went to the Anti-Void. The guardian still disliked the abode of the destroyer and never wanted to stay here for long, but it was the only place with absolute and unshakeable silence in which the pulse of magic became most distinctive. It was reflected in space and resonated with it, so clearly that the artist thought that a little more and he would be able to touch it.

But no. He couldn’t.

And that was the only thing that incredibly disappointed him.

Error's soul couldn't be touched. It was almost the first thing the artist learned about it, and no matter how hard he tried, magic just flowed through his fingers, leaving not even a slight tingle on them. It was wrong. This is not how souls should work. The souls should be so powerful, so concentrated a source of energy, that the evoked ones would have an almost material structure. They should be warm, soft, and touching them should be the most pleasant thing that a creature can experience at all!

But then and now, for Ink it was just a set of beautiful words that he couldn't even vaguely imagine. And the problem wasn't his poor imagination - he was proud of it! - or that Error's soul wasn't strong enough. Oh, no, just the opposite. But because of its nature, it seemed to be in another dimension, somewhere outside of this world. The guardian could see it, summon it from the body, feel the magic and every genuine emotion it gave, and yet the soul absolutely refused to be in his hands for even a second.

And Ink knew with shame, annoyance, and resentment that this was not enough for him.

Just as he realized for the first time in his life how selfish and tactless it was to want such a thing. And he found it out in a bad way, but Error very clearly explained how personal it is for the creatures in general, and for him in particular. Yes, the soul of the destroyer no longer responded to him, and yet it remained _his_ soul. And Ink cursed his greed that, even after all the explanations, he still wanted it so badly.

Just for a second. At least once. At least...

"You're thinking about it again."

The acrid but too familiar voice snapped him out of the fog of his mind and the pulse of magic jumped for a moment as the guardian's eye sockets snapped open and he spun around at the sound, catching a dark spot against the white void. Static briefly freaked out, licking the bones of his vessel with fire, but Ink was already used to ignoring that. So he just waited a couple of minutes, and then a little awkwardly adjusted his glasses. The image before his eyes cleared immediately, revealing his own discontented, skeptical expression. The symbols in the sockets slowly flowed into each other, but stopped more at the sharp shapes, which made the artist squirm uncomfortably.

"Oh, hi, Error. Sorry to drop by without asking, but right now your dimension is kind of my dimension, so..."

"Are you trying to pry into my soul again?" the glitch interrupted him harshly, with a note of suppressed growl. Ink lowered his gaze, as if asking if it was so obvious, at which the destroyer snorted and rolled his eyes. "You don't come to the Anti-Void for any other reason," he said sharply, with the same mocking grin. "No, usually it's hard to drag you in here even with strings."

"I was just listening. I didn't even look," the guardian said softly, not knowing what else to say for himself, but not denying it.

Error only muttered something and fell next to him on beanbag chair. He was no longer angry at the fact that his only piece of furniture had been occupied. He must have realized how useless it was. Besides, after all this mess, the line between his own and other's things became very blurred, so he just accepted it.

There was the same crystal silence between them, in which everyone was thinking about something else. Until the glitch frowned, slightly clenched his teeth and said, staring at a single point somewhere in the middle of the whiteness and not looking at the interlocutor:

"Okay, what's the point?"

The artist squinted cautiously, but didn't turn around either, being in that rare state when he was truly confused.

"Seriously, what's so special about it that you're so damn obsessed with it?! Isn't it enough that you just have it? It must be too much for a dummy like you! So what is this stupid mania for touching me, even when you are actually me?!" The destroyer spat out everything that had been in the air for last few weeks.

A slight shiver ran down the Ink's spine. He didn't know. He thought it was just curiosity, because it was something he couldn't understand. And yet, even for him it had gone too far. So much so that he was ready to overcome his greatest fear of emptiness and loneliness, just to not part with this sense and feel it more vividly, more powerfully... It was on the tip of all five tongues for a long time, but thoughts didn't want to form anything coherent that would explain this strange impulse. Finally he uncertainty suggested:

"It's just... I've heard too often how nice it can be. Souls are sensitive... Or should be. I don't know. I'll never know. How it feels when someone holds it... or entrusts it to someone, entrusts his whole being. Even after getting your soul and finding so much new, you and me... The two of us will never be able to feel what it's like."

Silence fell over them again, but the atmosphere had changed somehow. The tension of the destroyer had abruptly subsided, no longer poisoning the space around them with shades of red, and now he seemed embarrassed. Error bent his knees, hunched his head into his shoulders, and hid it in scarf and hood. The symbols in his eyes flashed in dozens of meanings. His fingers twitched, and a few minutes later they found the paint sash and ran over the glass of vials. It wasn't a habit with him yet, so any use of paints was either a conscious decision or an impulse, but the rest of the time the glitch forgot about them until he realized that he couldn't feel what he needed.

And right now was just such moment. Something inside clicked, when the glitch jerked in place, spun around, and without explanation pushed the guardian, sending him tumbling backward. Ink gave a brief cry of surprise when the glasses slipped again, blinding him for a few seconds and that was enough for Error. He quickly replaced the used vial, then approached, hovering over the still confused artist and pushing him further into the blue fabric.

There was a slightly rough computer noise as the glitches enveloped the body in a restless swarm, although the destroyer wasn't actually touching him. The magic pulsed rapidly, rushing through the bones and searing them with heat, but this had nothing to do with the burning of the body when it disintegrated into pixels. Oh, no, this feeling was different. Ink's cheekbones blushed blue as he cringed, afraid to move. The soul was pounding too fast and it seemed too loud, filling the tiny space between them with the sound and the warm sensation.

"E-error? W-what are you doing?" the artist asked, stammering a little and leaping over the tones in sudden excitement, unable to believe that the other had come so close. Yes, haptophobia was his problem now, but the destroyer still fiercely defended his personal space and refused to approach the guardian closer than a meter for no reason. And usually this reason was the desire to give him a good thump for another prank.

But for now, Ink couldn't figure out what was going on. He was even more bewildered when Error leaned closer, closing even that tiny gap between them. He was very careful, shifting to a comfortable position and making sure that all contact was only through clothing. Finally, when he was sure that he was conveniently seated, he put his head on the artist's shoulder, almost over his own soul, and froze, knowing that if he didn't move, the glitches would soon subside. They discovered this detail some time ago.

And they calmed down. But not the guardian, feeling his face burn and the other's entity seeming ready to leap out of his cage of ribs. As if sensing contact with its true owner and reaching out with all its might to fill the void that was the center of its own body. And perhaps Ink had only now realized how small he was compared to glitch's body. It fit almost completely on top of him, and driven by an impulse, the artist reached out carefully, placing his hands on the destroyer's back next to the hood. Error flinched, but didn't move back.

The seconds passed slowly, counting the moments of sudden intimacy. And with each new heartbeat of the soul, this feeling grew. This was new. It was a little frightening and at the same time unbelievable. A resonance that the guardian had never felt. It was so much that Ink almost gasped, completely lost in the other's magic and not moving, afraid that this emotion would go away. That Error would go away.

That the artist didn't want, having suddenly stumbled upon a thought that had previously escaped his mind. He had assumed that his curiosity was simply the result of a former soulless, but what if... This answer was so obvious, but still so complicated. But if all the emotions were available to him now, then he wanted this particular soul so much, because he actually wanted...

The thought interrupted when the glitch stirred, never meeting his gaze, and muttered somewhere near the skull. The familiar voice, usually distorted by a note of roughness, sounded almost tender.

"Did you say 'never'?" Ink couldn't see, but he feel that grin. The warmth of their shared soul responds to every word. "Think again, squid."


End file.
